


my only direction (fire on fire)

by heysapnap



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Betaed, DNF, Dancing in the Rain, Dream is 16, Fluff and Angst, George is 17, George is tatted, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, No Smut, Song: Fire On Fire (Sam Smith), and pierced, dreamnotfound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 09:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30087108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heysapnap/pseuds/heysapnap
Summary: we lose our minds in a city of roses, we won't abide by any rules.or the author was in her feels and listened to Fire on Fire, and created this.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	my only direction (fire on fire)

**Author's Note:**

> please make sure to read the tags! there are some potentially triggering things in the story and i do not want to make anyone uncomfortable :D
> 
> also a big thank you to [pasta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patanoki) for being my beta babe, love u lots /p

Dream has had enough. He was sick of hearing the same thing over and over again.

* * *

_**My mother said I'm too romantic,** **she said “You’re dancing in the movies”.**_

* * *

“Dream, you don’t have a girlfriend right? If you do, get rid of her. You’re too important to be thinking about relationships. It’s a waste of time, you could use the time you spend with a girl for studying instead, or doing anything else that’s useful.”

* * *

_**I almost started to believe her** _

* * *

Dream felt himself melt, hearing George giggle at the screen. The artificial lighting shone on the older boy’s face, prismatic colours creating a stunning show for Dream to admire. Metal adorning the older males lip ripples with hues, mesmerizing the blond. He was so in love with George, the boy with obsidian that swirled intricately over alabaster. A boy whose voice rivalled the depths of the ocean, drowning Dream in the sweetest way possible. A boy that was his _home_.

* * *

_**Then I saw you and I knew.** _

* * *

“Dream?”

The boy looks over at his lover, and feels his head spin.

George. It was always George. He looks at Dream as if _Dream_ was a God, with such adoration and passion in his eyes, that it startles Dream. Sepia eyes watch forest, searching for something within. 

Dream knew not everything was like this. People tried to believe that the world rivalled the Garden of Eve, but he knew the people of the world suffered from kalopsia. Dream, knew better. The rose-tinted glasses he once wore as a young, naive child were broken, exposing him to harsh reality. 

* * *

_**Maybe it's 'cause I got a little bit older** _

* * *

“Get out.”

  
Dream feels his stomach drop.

“Dad? I don’t understand, why would-”

  
  
The blond flinches as his father’s clenched fist met the table, harsh sound ringing through the now silent room.

  
  
Dream finally had the courage to tell his parents what he had always wanted to say. They had been seated at the dining table, eating in silence, except for the soft clinking of cutlery to ceramic. Dream had been hinting at it for months now, questioning his parents on their standing of men who loved men, women who loved women, and their overall opinion of how love is love. Dream had thought he was safe, since they seemed not to have a care in the world, answering in grunts he had assumed were confirmations.

Dream clears his throat, and tells them about the boy with stories drawn on his skin and rouge lips that grace his own. He tells them of their adventures in life, the beach, the hill and the roof. Dream didn’t notice his father’s grip around metal tighten, or the tears gathering in his mother’s eyes. He was too caught up telling them of the boy he loved, to realize some things would never change.

* * *

_**Maybe it's all that I've been through** _

* * *

“Love? What’s wrong, you sound like you’ve been crying?”

Dream feels more warmth flood down, fist gripping the phone tight enough to bruise.

“I told them, George..”

He heard the older boy gasp,

“That’s great, Dreamie! What did they say? Do they want to meet me? Oh no, would I have to cover my skin, or remove my piercings-”

Dream allows a smile to form, listening to his lover ramble on, heart swelling from the concern and care in his voice. The smile drops, as he remembers what had happened, 10 minutes prior. Kicking a stray pebble, he inhaled.

“They kicked me out. I have all my belongings on me, but I have nowhere to go now. I thought it’d be fine George, I really did-”

  
  
Dream’s eyes burn from the tears, sniffling becoming more frequent. He could hear movement on the other side of the line, things being thrown around and gathered up.

“George?”

His voice croaks, raw and uncomfortable. Dream cringes at the sound, _he sounds so broken_. It was pathetic, Dream, a boy who was the pride of the school and of his parents. Dream, a boy whose future was predicted to be the textbook definition of a successful boy. Dream, a boy who was sitting at the curb of a gas station, face streaked with salt tracks and emerald eyes shattered. 

* * *

_**I'd like to think it's how you lean on my shoulder** _

* * *

Dream felt blissful, thin fingers carding through blond locks, detangled and scratching at his scalp softly. It was 7 PM, an hour after Dream had called George. The older boy, concerned for his boyfriend, had dropped everything and drove to Dream immediately, scooping him onto his motorcycle and bringing him back to his home. Dream was greeted with the worried faces of George’s parents, petting his hair and smoothing a hand down his back, in an attempt to relax him. Dream was pliant as he was set on the couch, George rushing upstairs to get blankets, as his mother brought him food, assuring Dream that he was welcome to stay with them.

Dream feels tears prick at his eyes, remembering the events of before. It was embarrassing, having to rely on the generosity of his boyfriend and his family. Dream’s always been independent, never needing help.

But, as soft hands lull him to sleep in the lap of the boy he loved, Dream could not help but think that leaning on others was something he could do from time to time. 

* * *

_**And how I see myself with you** _

* * *

Dream wakes up to the sound of whispering, opting to listen quietly instead of stirring.

“He’ll be okay, mom. Dream, he’s strong. Stronger than I could ever imagine being. He’s gone through much, and yet he’s still standing. It’s admirable, really, seeing him achieve so much and be the definition of perfect. Yet, he has this whole other side to him, the side he shows us. The real Dream. I really do love him, mom. He’s all I’ll ever want and need.”

  
  
For Dream, this was enough. George’s love was mercy, and he was a man on death row. 

* * *

_**I don't say a word. But still, you take my breath and steal the things I know** _

* * *

Dream stirs, feeling the plush blankets swaddling him, burrowing himself in deeper to try and return to the previous state of bliss. 

He was promptly thrown out of his peacefulness by the sound of shouting resonating in the house. 

“Mr. NotFound, you know that this is illegal, right? That is my _son_ you are keeping in your filthy household. I will call the police if you do not bring him back.”

  
  
Dream really wanted to fall back asleep, he did not have the strength to deal with his parents right now, nor the heart to face them.

“Dream is his own person, you have no right to keep him anywhere after _you_ tell him to get out. He is a person who can make his own choices. You are people who live in the past, with outdated views and refuse to accept the changing world. You torture your son, pushing him into things he does not want and trying to shape him into the person you could not be. I am in love with Dream, and he loves me. If you cannot accept that I make him happy, you can exit the property.”

Dream sits up, eyes wide in shock. George sounded so angry, and yet he could not help but smile. George did what Dream had always wanted to say, he stood up to the people who had pushed him to his limits, feeding him false praise and love when, in reality, they thought of him as a trophy, something to show off and to soak in the praise given to achieving such a prize.

* * *

_**There you go, saving me from out of the cold** _

* * *

It was currently 9 PM. Dream was sitting at George’s desk, formulas occupying his mind as he tried to complete his homework. No matter how hard a day was, he would still have to finish required work for the next day. 

Dream’s father had tried to knock down the door a few hours before, steam pouring out of his ears as he argued with George. His wife played her part, bringing out the waterworks for all to see. 

Dream had always known she was a good actor. He wishes he knew that from the beginning though. The false sense of security, the trust his mother broke over and over again and managed to fix with switching up the scenario, making herself out to be the victim, instead of owning up to her mistakes. All the times where he went to his mother for comfort, only to receive a disappointed sigh and a lecture of how others are above him and how he should be ashamed that he was not good enough. 

_“Mother, father.”_

_  
_ _  
_ _“Dream? Oh, my son, come home, we missed you! I can’t believe you left, sweetheart. Once we get home, we’ll have a long talk, maybe we could call Pastor Charles to talk about your… feelings.”_

_His face felt hot, lava bubbling up his neck and cheeks. Did they think religion could change him? Who he was?_

_“I’m not going back, not to you, ever.”_

_His mother’s face dropped, and Dream felt power surge through him._

_“What do you mean? You’re our son, of course you’ll come back. Don’t you want to be with your parents?”_

_Parents. Parents were people who loved you. They did not love Dream, they used him for their own needs._

_“Drop the act, mother. I’m sick of being some sort of trophy child that you show off. Do you really crave praise that much that you need to use me to receive it? You’ve never cared about my feelings. Really, thank you for feeding me, for clothing me and sending me to school. But I will never credit you for raising me, since that is something I had to do on my own.”_

* * *

_**Fire on fire would normally kill us** _

* * *

“Hello, my love.”

Dream feels weight press against the crown of his head, comfortable and warm. He smiled as his boyfriend’s arms wrapped around his waist from behind, gentle touch making Dream feel safe beyond belief. 

It was euphoric, knowing he had finally stood up to his parents and had his boyfriend supporting him the entire time. He figures he’d have to face them again eventually, as he did not want to cut them off completely, as much as he would want to. They were still his parents, horrid or not. 

Dream and George were flames, flames that danced together and burned the wick that stood in the way. They kept each other alight, even when one began to die down.

* * *

_**But this much desire, together, we're winners** _

* * *

It was 10 PM, and Dream finally allows the dam to break again. They had called his phone multiple times, messages blowing up his phone as George once again declined.

  
  
George said to block the numbers, but he couldn’t bring himself to. What if they genuinely wanted to apologize, to welcome back the son they had thrown out at the knowledge of their boy loving another boy. 

At one point, it was too much. It had to be the 100th time they had tried to call him, and instead of allowing George to decline the call, he opted to press the accept button, hushing George’s protests immediately.

A swift kiss is pressed to the blond’s head, as George hops up and heads out, giving his boyfriend privacy. Dream breathes in, _you’ve done it once today_ , and breathed out, _you have the support of George and his family, you’ll be okay_. 

Lifting the phone up, he presses it to his ear, and braces. 

* * *

_**They say that we're out of control and some say we're sinners** _

* * *

It’s 12 AM, and the unmistakable drizzling of rain began, hitting the glass of George’s windows and sliding down, gathering pearls of water on its descent. It’s soothing, listening to the soft drumming of the rain picking up, imagining the beads in a race, like he did as a child. 

He’s on George’s chest, once again feeling familiar fingers card through. His head lolls back, malleable in the hands of the boy he would set the world ablaze for. The LED’s of George’s room were set to teal, a beautiful blend of both lovers's favourite colours. Teal, like the depths of the ocean that was George. 

If he were to describe the elder, it would be using every shade of blue there was. George was bright blue, like the hottest of flames that burned through everything, yet kept Dream warm at night. George was like sapphire, a precious gem that should be hidden away, yet Dream shows off, because of how proud he is of his sapphire. George was ocean blue, for the way his love could be shallow and barely there, or overwhelmingly powerful. 

Dream smiles, remembering that some people called their lovers their personal yellow. Well, that would make George _his_ blue.

* * *

_**But don't let them ruin our beautiful rhythms** _

* * *

It was 1 in the morning, yet the time nor the weather would snuff out their fire. The blond boy had always dreamt of acting out those cliche scenes he’d see in movies, where the actors looked more uncomfortable than madly in love. 

He brought up the idea to George, who was a little adamant at first. Yet, the brown-eyed boy could not resist the sparkle in the smaller’s eyes, and George wouldn’t have been surprised if Dream had grown ears and a tail to match the puppy eyes aimed at him. 

Dream was ecstatic, to put it quite simply.

It was cold, as George hesitantly stepped out onto the road, illuminated by a single street light. The gray hoodie he was wearing darkened immediately, his discomfort clear on his face. Even so, he looked up, stretching out a hand in invitation.

“Shall we?”

* * *

_**Cause when you unfold me and tell me you love me** _

* * *

The rain coming down was welcomed with open arms and hearts. Cool, lapis slid down their skin, catching onto each other and creating larger drops. Clothing clung to their backs uncomfortably, but the two boys dancing could not find it in themselves to care. 

The look George was giving him was too much. The emotions behind the hickory eyes he has grown to love portrayed so much that it was drowning. But, if this was what loving George was like, he would gladly let the waves swallow him.

* * *

_**And look in my eyes** _

* * *

Some might think dancing in the rain would be cold and horrid, yet the fire in the boys’ hearts were seering, keeping them warm as tears mingled with the downpour.

“Dream?”

The boy opened his eyes, as warm lips were pressed against his own. And in the rain, they kissed, and they danced. Dream had never felt happier, had never felt more safe. Nothing in the world could change his love for George, and nothing in the world would break them apart. 

**“You are perfection, Dream, my only direction.”**

Dream smiled.

* * *

_**Fire on fire.** _

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i hope you enjoyed the story :D 
> 
> maybe you should come scream at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/heysapnap) if you’d like too


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